


Glitter in the Air

by PoemJunkie



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-14
Updated: 2014-05-14
Packaged: 2018-01-24 16:27:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1611746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoemJunkie/pseuds/PoemJunkie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mickey’s good at this bouncing shit. He’s got a nose for it. It’s like he can spot a pervert coming from a mile away, and he thanks 13-year-old Mandy’s  obsession with mini-skirts for helping him develop the skill.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Glitter in the Air

**Author's Note:**

> Based off a headcanon of mine: Mickey hangs around the club so much making sure no one gets up close and personal with Ian’s dick they eventually give up and give him a job as a bouncer. The dancers and the little twinks that visit the club all love him and coo over him and Ian thinks it’s hilarious but Mickey is just so confused.

Mickey’s good at this bouncing shit. He’s got a nose for it. It’s like he can spot a pervert coming from a mile away, and he thanks 13-year-old Mandy’s obsession with mini-skirts for helping him develop the skill.

They are all, to a one, pussies, and Mickey has yet to have to actually punch anyone in the face over skimming a little too close to the boy dick dancing up on the tables. It’s annoying as fuck, though, because he thought Ian attracted the geriatrics like flies, but when Fairy Tale eventually gives up hoping Mickey will stop threatening their customers and actually starts paying him to threaten their customers, Mickey learns that there are plenty of horny, desperate men just waiting to break the rules.

He’s also, more than once, stopped some glitter-covered twink from getting fucked while unconscious because they’re all too stupid and tweaked out to recognize when they’re getting slipped a Roofie and not a tab of X.

Those assholes Mickey would beat for free. They all remind him of Iggy and Joey, neither of whom he’s on speaking terms with since his inspired coming out speech at the Alibi.

The point is, Mickey is good at his job, and the management is actually not all that pissed off at him anymore, because the Fairy Tale is actually garnering a reputation as a safe place for little underaged boys to come and dance in booty shorts. Which, yes, brings in more skeevy old men looking to hook up, but it’s miraculously also gaining the reputation of not being particularly friendly for predators.

“Need you to work Tuesdays,” his manager tells him one evening, as he’s getting his jacket out of his locker and getting ready to rescue Ian and finally go the fuck home.

Mickey scowls at him. The guy is built like a beanpole, and is ugly besides being a total asshole most of the time.

“’s my day off,” he mutters. Not really, since he still pimps during the days, and on the days he’s not doing that, Svetlana leaves him with the kid, which he hasn’t given brain damage to yet, but that’s really only by purest accident.

“You can have Thursdays off instead,” his manager says. “Ryan says he won’t work unless you’re on anymore. Says people try stuff when you’re not here.”

Which is exactly why Mickey’s days off coincide with Ian’s days off, and he could give a fuck about Ryan, whoever the fuck that is, but before he can eloquently express that, another voice pipes up.

“Oh, hell, no,” someone says behind him in a soft, lispy voice that has Mickey internally cringing. The dude sounds so gay Mickey kind of wants to punch him on principal. It’s one of the dancers, still dressed in a bowtie and black shorts, covered in glitter and wearing more makeup than a whored-out Mandy. Impossibly, he looks even more underaged than Ian. “I work Thursdays and I’m not going to go back to being palmed by every derelict that has a Lolita fantasy.” During this speech he actually flips his wrist and Mickey reflexively curls his lip because he might be gay but Jesus, what a faggot.

The manager huffs, and glares at Mickey like this is his fucking fault. “Well, he can’t be here every night,” he says, annoyed.

Someone grabs Mickey’s arm, and at first he thinks it might be Ian, saving him from this worthless conversation. Instead, he does a double take, because it’s one of the other dancers, and he’s apparently already dispensed of tonight’s costume because the dude is nude.

“I don’t see why not,” the guy pouts, looking at Mickey through kohl-rimmed eyes.

“The fuck!” Mickey shouts, prying him off. The dude leaves a layer of glitter behind on Mickey’s shirt. The dude just pouts harder.

“Look, I have Tuesdays and Wednesdays off, and I don’t feel like changing my life around for you assholes, so ‘Ryan’ can change his schedule or learn to fucking defend himself. Jesus Fucking Christ,” Mickey swears, pulling on his jacket. He storms out of the staff dressing room and makes his way outside to wait for Ian, because this shit is fucking ridiculous.

He’s furiously smoking a cigarette when Ian shows up.

“The fuck, Mick, you couldn’t wait for me?” Ian grumbles. Mickey’s chest loosens a little like it always does lately when he sees Ian. He looks good, amazing, really. He’s been putting in extra workout hours to try to counteract any bloating from his bi-polar meds and he looks really cut under his shirt – it’s Mickey’s and thus really too small for him and shows off his body nicely.

Mickey rakes his eyes over the view and wraps the hand not holding his cigarette around the back of Ian’s neck, drawing him in. Ian comes, mouth parting automatically because this is not the kind of shit Ian says no to, even when he is incredibly pissed off at Mickey.

Mickey nudges Ian’s lips with his own, and Ian opens, allowing Mickey to shotgun his mouthful of cigarette smoke into Ian’s mouth, lips just barely brushing. Ian, even having quit smoking months ago, sucks in the smoke like a pro. Mickey closed the gap for a brief press of his lips to Ian’s, pushing his body against Ian’s briefly, reaching down to feel the interested twitch of his cock before backing off and letting Ian exhale.

Ian looked less pissed now, smiling at Mickey. “You just kissed me in public,” he told Mickey, like Mickey didn’t fucking know that. “Out on the street even.”

Mickey rolls his eyes so hard they almost fall out of his head. “Whatever, Firecrotch. We gonna go now, or you want to stay and work the corner?”

Ian laughs and moves to zip up his jacket, before pausing and looking down at his shirt in puzzlement. “Is that glitter?”

**Author's Note:**

> Thought I had posted this already, but apparently not. Follow me on Tumblr at poemjunkie.tumblr.com


End file.
